


Drape Me In Your Warmth

by shyserious



Series: But Please, Don't Bite [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alpha Louis, Alpha Zayn, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst with a Happy Ending, Animal Transformation, Animalistic, Animalistic Behavior, Anxiety, Beta Liam, Character Development, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Full Shift Werewolves, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Intimacy, Loneliness, Love, M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry, Omega Niall, Omega Space, Scent Marking, Scenting, Subspace, Touch-Starved, Touching, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:50:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyserious/pseuds/shyserious
Summary: "His body was wreaking havoc on him. It wasprotesting.Harry knew it just by glancing down at his abused fingers. It had gotten worse, the biting. The aching under his skin. Thecraving."( A snippet of Harry's life, taking place somewhere amongst the chapters 7 and 8 of But Please, Don't Bite. )





	Drape Me In Your Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> Here’s a little something for But Please, Don’t Bite. Kind of. Surprise? :D
> 
> I had a very small—just a couple of lines type of small—scene written from back when I was working on BPDB, and that scene never made it to the actual story, for whatever reason. Today I sat down to look at it, and when I blinked, I had this thing written? 
> 
> You definitely should read But Please, Don’t Bite first to understand this. This fits somewhere amongst the chapters 7 and 8, which is a very messy time in Harry’s life. I can’t promise 100% I got all the details to match BPDB, or that the timeline is ‘correct’, so please keep that in mind. I tried my best to fit it in the story right, but let me know if you notice something that bothers you.
> 
> Basically, this is Harry struggling with the touch-starvation, and his conflicting mind. He’s trying to figure out what he wants, and what he can and should want.
> 
> -Not beta’d. / English is not my first language. / Please do not repost, translate, or add on sites like goodreads (especially without permission)! / Title from Troye Sivan's - Bite. / Disclaimer: None of this is real nor does this reflect anything or anyone in real life.-

_Drape Me In Your Warmth_

*

Harry had given up. For now.

He shook the wolf’s skin off of him, allowing his humanity push to the forefront. He was well hidden between a tall wooden fence and a wall of a block of flats. His clothes were right there, hidden in a cardboard box behind a trashcan.

Yes. A trashcan.

That was his life.

Harry swallowed that thought down with clenched teeth, and rushed to tug the black hoodie on his shivering body. It smelled of Zayn, a mix of his scent and his soft cologne, and it was _warm_ , and it was like a shield against the real world.

Harry was quick to dress himself rest of the way, and then hide the box back behind the _trashcan._ A fucking trashcan.

The hoodie was warm but he was still shaking. His hands were bleeding again from too much biting, and his head was a mess.

Harry had stayed the night outside, hiding under someone’s back veranda. The night had been restless: his wolf had been nervous and twitchy, tearing into his itching paws, gnawing and scratching. And to make it all even worse, he had had to scurry away from his makeshift den when the owner of the house had suddenly driven up to the front, in the middle of the night.

There weren’t that many places to stay the night on the streets, while staying invisible. There was always someone moving—imagined or not—and the buildings made it hard to tell where the echo of the noises was coming from.

Harry hadn’t slept properly. Had barely slept at all.

He had stayed hunched against a wall, near _the flat,_ and he had torn into his paws.

His body was wreaking havoc on him. It was _protesting._ Harry knew it just by glancing down at his abused fingers. It had gotten worse, the biting. The aching under his skin. The _craving._  

He knew now how it felt like to feel the closeness with another wolf— _wolves_ —and he _wanted_ it, but… It wasn’t something he could just _have_ , and it was worse now than it had been before he _knew_ , and it _hurt._

It was hurting so much.

His skin was crawling with the need for the touch, oversensitive and desperate and eager, and all of that was curling up into a dense bundle with his anxiety. And… Harry was going out of his fucking mind.

Harry had to lean against the cold and harsh wall just to pull air into his lungs.

It wasn’t just his hands that were hurting. It was everything. He was aching all over. There was pressure building in his throat, burning the corners of his eyes. 

Harry pushed away from the wall before the feeling got to become too much.  

When he reached _the flat_ he knocked softly. The door downstairs leading to the stairway had been unlocked, and Harry had been quick to sneak in, as if he was doing something forbidden. He knew he was welcome.

He _knew._  

And yet the knock he had thrummed on the door had been unsure. 

When Liam opened the door Harry had already pushed his hands inside the front pocket of the hoodie. The fabric was soft but it caught on Harry’s cuts, sticking to his damp, marred skin. He felt disgusting, and Liam was grinning at him like he was the best thing to happen to him all day.

“Heyy!” the beta greeted, kicking shoes out of the way so Harry would have a clear path inside. The coatrack by the door was a mess, only Niall’s usual jacket was missing from it.

“Hi,” Harry answered, voice too quiet and too thin. He followed Liam inside, and as the front door closed behind him, Harry finally felt like he could relax a little bit.

“We’re just watching something on the telly,” Liam turned to shrug at him, leading way to the living room. Zayn, sitting on the sofa, lifted his gaze at that, and threw Harry a welcoming smile.

Harry tried to seem unbothered, nodding his head, and nudging the corners of his mouth up in greeting. He licked his lips, after, and looked around before deciding to try his luck with the kitchen.

“Yeah, I’ll… Sounds good,” he said, stepping towards the other doorway. “I’ll join you in a bit. J-just have to wash my hands and have a drink.”

“Sure,” Zayn smiled, head tilted back against the backrest so he could see Harry. “There’s soda in the fridge, I think. Coke, or something.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said stiffly, already inching away from the hallway. “Cheers.”

He was quick to rush to the sink, cool water pouring out as he twisted the tap. He got blood smeared on the metal, and heart thumping almost painfully he tried to rub it away.

The water stung Harry’s sore skin, the pain of it punching a tense, quiet whine out from between his teeth. And…

The water was making it _worse_.

Not the pain, really, but the- the way it looked. It was washing away everything that had dried already, allowing new, fresh redness to pool out. By the sting of it, some of the cuts Harry had thought were already healing, were reopening, blood pooling out in small droplets.

“ _G-gosh_ ,” tumbled shakily out of Harry’s mouth as he stared down his hands. They were trembling, red swirling into a pale pink as the water mixed with it, washing it away, only to be replaced with _more_.

It was so much _worse_.

“Harry?”

Liam’s sudden voice caused Harry to jerk, his thigh jumping and banging loudly against the cupboard door under the sink.  

With panicked, twitching movements Harry tried to simultaneously close the tap and hide the mess that his hands were.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he already knew it was useless.   

“What happened?” Liam asked, confirming just that, and stepped closer with a worried crease between his brows.

Harry's answering flinch was way too noticeable to hide, and he turned around, hands jerking to curl together behind his back.

“Nothing,” he rasped quickly, and then cleared his throat, “It's- nothing.”

“What's nothing?” asked another voice— _Louis’—_ from the hallway, right before the alpha appeared into the kitchen. Harry’s heart lurched, and his panicking eyes locked with Liam’s. 

Louis circled around Liam to get to the fridge, while the beta kept watching Harry, brown eyes attentive. Too attentive.

Harry barely managed to kill the building whine, crushing it against the roof of his mouth.

“Harry's hurt his hands,” Liam said evenly, holding the eye contact with Harry.

His eyes were calm— _calming—_ but it was also clear that Liam was buying none of it, and that he wasn't even one bit sorry for outing Harry’s secret to Louis.

The fridge door slammed closed at the words, causing Harry to jolt again.

“What?” Louis asked sharply, already turning, before running his eyes over Harry's face, looking for— something? “Can I see?”

His tone wasn't commanding, not at all, but something instantly tugged at the bottom of Harry's belly. With a heavy swallow Harry felt his fingers uncurl from around each other, and his arms moved to his front, clumsy and awkward.  

Harry couldn't help but stare at his trembly limbs in betrayal. 

Louis was staring, then. Liam too.  

Harry wanted to cry. 

His hands had been in bad shape before too, _sure_ , but this was... He had really done a number on them.

The skin on and around his knuckles was cracked open, pink and sore looking. His wrists were irritated and full of small and angry red pinpricks where his canines had pressed into his own flesh. There was watered down blood smeared and pooling right under where his left thumb met the gnawed wrist. More was oozing from the burning gash almost in the middle of Harry's palm. 

His hands were shaking.  

He couldn't lift his gaze from them, head hanging in mortified humiliation. He couldn’t drop his arms either. He knew he _could_ but he _couldn’t_. Louis had asked... Louis had wanted to... Harry _knew_ he _could_. 

“Haz,” Louis said softly, yet it still caused Harry's shoulders tense up even more, had his breath catching in his throat. Harry knew he'd be _too much_ , one of these days. He had already overstayed his welcome. He was really playing a risky game, he had no right— “Harry?”

Harry blinked his eyes, looking up at Louis without raising his head properly.  

The blue of the alpha’s eyes was a bit too intimidating to handle, but something there was calming too. It was helping the pressure building inside Harry's chest relax a little.

The alpha stepped closer, careful, but clearly not afraid to get closer.

“Can I have a look?” Louis asked then, the same question as before but— his voice was obviously softened into something that couldn't be misunderstood as a command. His eyes were saying the same thing: _You don't have to._

So, he had noticed the way Harry had jerked into action; done so without any conscious effort, just with the few words from the alpha. “Probably should clean them up, yeah? So they don't get infected."

Harry shrugged, swallowing, and dropped his eyes back down to the trembly mess of his hands, still hanging midair. There was a short pause before Louis continued, “I'll help you, if you want?"

Harry looked back up, sharply, too quickly.

There was something in Louis’ eyes that was hard to read. Something too knowing, but Harry wasn't sure _how_ he'd ever be able to know.

But there he was, offering his _touch_ even if it was just to clean Harry’s stupid, pathetic mess up. Offering his touch in a way that wouldn't force Harry to ask for it.

Maybe Harry was just reading into it too much: his mind and body too desperate for it, and his wolf too high strung to let his thoughts work properly.

Louis was just trying to help.

And... It didn't really matter what Louis’ motive was, really. This was Harry's chance. He... He _needed_ it, alright? He needed it so much it hurt. So much he wanted to rip his skin off to make himself stop from wanting it. He didn't _want_ to want it; he wanted to be able to just _be_. Not need things from other people. Not like this.

“O-okay, yeah,” Harry answered with a strained voice when the silence had already stretched to be way too long. He licked his lips and glanced at Louis, and then Liam.

The beta flashed him an encouraging smile before nodding.

“I'll get the disinfectant from the loo,” he said before backing up from the room. He seemed to be communicating something with his eyes to Louis, but Harry didn't bother trying to understand them. He was too busy feeling his nerves crashing in, pushing in right alongside the familiar, always-there anxiety.

“D’you want to go to the living room?” Louis asked, head tilting, and successfully distracting Harry from his messy feelings. _For now._ Then he shrugged, “We can go to my room too, if you'd like."

Harry had never been to Louis’ room before, and it sounded— amazingly too intimate. Too... He shouldn’t even consider, really. It was _an alpha’s_ room. Not _his_ alpha’s. Not even someone’s who he knew that well. He was getting to know these boys but— He didn’t know them, yet. Not that well…

Harry could still hear the telly on in the living room. He knew it was just Zayn, and Liam, and… And.  

“I- um... Your room?” Harry mumbled unsurely, as if Louis hadn’t just offered it as an option. “If- if that's okay..?”

Louis smiled without replying, and just nodded towards the door, urging Harry to go ahead.

After a short, stilted pause, Harry managed to move his feet, slinking past the alpha and into the hallway. He could feel Louis’ presence right behind him, the back of his neck feeling overly sensitive and tingly, as if his skin could sense the eyes on him.

With a shaky breath Harry braved forward, awkwardly shuffling towards the door he knew to be Louis’. He felt clumsy and graceless; stuck with wanting to follow the alpha’s instruction to go ahead, but still unsure and nervous to overstep by accidentally taking the lead, or seeming like… Well, it wasn’t that Harry was _that_ uncomfortable turning his back to the alpha but… He would have preferred him to lead the way; cue Harry in on what was to happen. Just…  Harry just wanted to do the _right_ thing.

Harry couldn’t stop his relieved exhale when Liam appeared out of the toilet, a little bottle in one hand, and a plastic box and scissors in his other. The beta’s appearance allowed Harry to pause and press his back against the wall of the hallway, hands once again finding their usual meek place behind his back.

He peeked towards Louis from the corner of his eye, only to find himself being watched. Which…

Harry dropped his chin, widening eyes getting hidden behind a bunch of tangled curls that escaped from behind his ear and tumbled over his cheeks. For once he was glad for the stubbornness of his hair and its incapability to stay where he tried to fix it.

“Here,” Liam said as he reached them, and offered the items up to Harry.

For a second Harry just stared because… Right. Liam was giving them to _him_. Not to Louis. And…

Harry furrowed his brows, throat working as he tried to swallow. He managed to reach out and take the bottle and the scissors, and what he assumed to be some bandages. His hands were shaky, still, but he had a good hold of everything, and he even pressed the items against his chest, just to be sure.

“You good, Haz?” Liam asked then, smiling, and eyes warm and patient, like he always was.  

Harry nodded, albeit a bit jerkingly and forced, but he nodded. The beta smiled wider, his nose scrunching up with it, and as he walked past them he patted Louis’ arm. The hallway felt echoey after he disappeared into the living room.   

Harry wasn't  _good._    

He was standing hunched against the wall, the knobs of his spine pressing against it, and the handle of the scissors was digging into his chest.

Harry knew something wasn’t clicking in his mind, he _knew_ something wasn’t adding up. About the… Liam had given the items to _him._

It was such a small thing but it was really throwing Harry off. He felt uncentered. Even more so than normally. There was something unhinged inside his chest, looking to be anchored down so he could just relax and _breathe_ again.

His thoughts were in conflict.

It was stupid really. Someone else would have just taken the items, and dealt with— _this_. But to Harry… Everything was somehow distorted.  

He hated to admit it but… He had wanted Louis to take the items… It had felt like the most natural thing to Harry, somehow? And he had just assumed… Louis was the alpha, right? Alphas took care of… Alphas wanted to…

But that’s not necessarily how it went, here. That wasn’t how it was for Harry anymore. And it was messing with his head.

Harry wasn’t sure if he— liked it?

What if he wanted someone to make the decisions? Wanted someone to tell him what to do, and where to go. What if he wanted someone to take care of him? He clearly wasn’t doing that great of a job by himself. 

But the boys… Harry felt like the boys wanted him to _not_ want that? Maybe.

Louis stepped to the door, startling Harry from his thoughts, and shouldered it open before moving aside to let Harry in. Their eyes locked for a short moment, and Harry’s heart was doing something painful.

He pushed away from the wall and shuffled in, careful not to leave Louis waiting for too long.

Maybe it was because Liam didn’t want to assume that Harry would let Louis touch him? He knew the boys _thought_ he didn’t really want them to touch him. Except Niall, but that was different, with him being an omega too. But… So, maybe Liam had just wanted to leave that choice to Harry?

And there Harry was; unsure if he could handle the weight of having to _make decisions._

“Come on, then,” Louis said, walking away from the now slightly ajar door, and easily dropped to sit down on his unmade bed. The alpha eyed the sheets critically for a second, then discreetly tried to push them in order.

Harry followed suit, only allowing himself a quick glance around the room, before he gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. He let the items in his arms fall onto the mattress, making sure the bottle of antiseptic rolled closer to Louis.

Harry stared at the little red stain he had managed to smudge on the handle of the scissors, and his fingers slowly curled into fists.

“No, no,” Louis said, seeing the move. He reached out, fingers almost touching Harry’s arm, but stopping just before the contact was made. “You should— Keep your fingers straight, alright? Do you… I can help?”

Harry swallowed, fingers jerking back into their uncurled position, the move pulling at the cuts and punctures. Tensely he felt himself nod as an answer.

“Okay,” Louis said then, sigh escorting the word, “Alright.”

When he first touched Harry it wasn’t with the stinging cotton that had been wetted with the antiseptic. No. It was just his fingers, gently curling under Harry’s palm to lift it up, and… And Harry just barely managed to bite back the whimper the touch forced up from his chest.  

His breath hitched, loudly, and the way Louis’ eyes flickered upwards, just for a short second, made it obvious enough that the noise hadn’t gone unnoticed.  

Harry had to bite his tongue, hard.  

His nose was only picking up Louis’ scent, now, and the only thing he was feeling was Louis’ touch on his skin, and the only sound he was hearing were Louis’ even breaths as the alpha focused on cleaning Harry’s mess. 

By the time Louis was wrapping the last bandage around Harry’s wrist, had the shakiness spread from his hands to all over his whole body.

Harry had tried so hard to stay still; breathing as noiselessly as he could, eyes following the gentle way Louis worked on cleaning his irritated skin. He felt oversensitive now, burning and tingling, like there was electricity running somewhere inside his veins. It was uncomfortable, tension building and curling inside his muscles.

He wanted to lean in and press his face right where Louis’ shoulder met his neck. Right were his thin shirt was revealing a sliver of tattooed skin.   

“Alright, love?” Louis asked, securing his handiwork with the fabric-like tape that stuck to the bandages. He was glancing up at Harry, most likely keeping track on what his traitorous face was revealing, and…

Harry shook his head at first by accident, eyes not leaving the spot on Louis’ neck where his gaze had been drawn to. When he realised what he was doing he jerkingly turned the motion into a nod. Louis was still touching his wrist, and Harry’s jaws felt slack. 

“D’you want to tell me what happened, here?” Louis hummed, fingers smoothing over the tape to secure it, and then he wrapped his palm over Harry’s wrist. His touch was almost scorching, even through the layers of the dressing. 

Harry swallowed, fingers twitching. He wasn’t able to make his mouth move around the messy, choppy words his mind tried to throw at him. They made no sense anyway. 

“No?” Louis confirmed gently, tilting his head, probably trying to catch Harry’s eye. He only ended up stretching out his neck though, revealing more and more of it for Harry’s greedy eyes. It was… Humiliating. Harry felt like he had no control over his body’s reactions right then.  

He felt such shame—such embarrassment—and yet even the hot flush licking its way up to his cheeks wouldn’t shake him out of it. It was like all his senses had zeroed on that little sliver of skin. “Would you like to hear what I think?”  

A weak noise tumbled over Harry’s lips as the words registered. Harry _always_ wanted to hear what Louis thought, always. But this…

“I think you still don’t realise you have nothing to worry about with us,” Louis said, gently but firmly. His other hand pushed the scissors and the antiseptic further away on the bed, and then settled his fingertips carefully on Harry’s knee, sending a rush of sparks across his whole leg. “You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of, Harry. No one’s going to judge you— There’s _nothing_ to be judged.”  

Harry was sitting still, listening to the words over the loudly pumping pulse in his ears. His nose was filled with the scent of _Louis,_ and traces of the other boys, and his chest felt tight—tighter—again.  

“You don’t have to hold back, okay? Your thoughts, or how you feel, or— or from asking for what you need. If you’re doing that because you're worried about what we might think, then… There’s no need for that, yeah? We just want you to feel— better. We want you here, love, and… We don’t want you to be hurting.” 

“‘m not,” Harry’s mouth said, weakly insisting, words slurring more than he was comfortable with. His whole upper body had been leaning forward, as if he was being lured in, little by little. “‘m not hurting.”   

Louis sighed, fingers curling over Harry’s knee. He tapped the bandaged wrist, softly and pointedly. “This. This is _not_ ‘not hurting’, Harry.” 

The tone of his voice, the firmness and unyieldingness of it, pushed a stressed whine up Harry’s throat. His shoulders curled in, chin ducking against his chest. The feeling of being _chastised_ finally snapping through the hypnotic trance he had somehow managed to fall into.  

“Sorry,” Harry breathed out, barely audible. His brain wasn’t working properly, all fogged up and hazy. He was stuck in the stark contrast of the lovely, safe scent of the room—of Louis—and the tension clawing inside his body. “‘m sorry. I’m— It’s not… I didn’t— I’m sorry, I—” 

“Haz. Hey, shh.” Louis’ words were rushed, and when the alpha leaned closer Harry could _feel_ his warmth. “None of that, yeah? Nothing to be sorry for. Okay?” 

“Okay,” Harry whispered with a delay, voice weak and shaky. He had a lot to be sorry for but… Okay.  

“Good,” Louis said then, and the little meaningless praise managed to make Harry’s next inhale stutter. Good. _Good good good._  

“I’m not—” Harry started, and then snapped his teeth together, eyes squeezing shut in devastation. Swallowing hard he forcibly fought his mouth to shape out something completely different than it had just been about to, “I c-can’t help it.”  

“Can’t help what?” Louis coaxed softly, when Harry fell quiet again. The alpha’s hands were overwhelming on him. It was like the touch was reaching deep inside Harry and fisting tightly around his heartstrings, almost suffocating him.  

Louis’ previous words were ringing in his head, _“You don’t have to hold back, okay? Your thoughts, or how you feel, or— or from asking for what you need.”_  

But was this something he needed? It felt more like him just being _needy._  

He wasn’t behaving… This wasn’t very _proper_ of him, surely? This wasn’t _respectable_. Nothing like an omega like him should be doing. But… Harry couldn’t find it in him to make Louis stop touching him. And the biggest reason stopping Harry from doing that was the fact that Louis _would_.

The second Harry would utter a word, Louis would be across the room, away from him. Harry just _knew_.  

He… He was starting to _trust_ Louis. 

 _“_ My skin hurts… Sometimes, _”_ Harry explained weakly. It wasn’t quite right. It was an understatement. His _everything_ hurt. All the time.  

But just because Harry was needy, didn’t mean he had to sound like it. 

“Just on your hands, or..?” Louis asked, starting to pet the bandaged wrist with the tips of his fingers. He didn’t come in contact with Harry’s bare skin, now, but the way he brushed dangerously close had Harry’s heart clenching.   

“Y-yes,” Harry breathed out, eyes following the short back and forth movement. “I mean, no. It’s… Um, everywhere? A little bit.” 

“But you only hurt your hands?” was what came next, and Harry froze. 

Right.

 _Of course_ Louis would be able to put two and two together, and figure out that this was something Harry had done to himself. He wasn’t stupid, and this wasn’t some ridiculously difficult puzzle to solve. This was just Harry: too weak, too pathetic Harry, who couldn’t stand being in his own skin, and rather tried to tear himself out of it. 

Harry almost felt like he had subconsciously made himself walk into this trap. Too desperate for it. Too weak to just… _Fuck._ Why couldn’t he just deal with himself? Why did he have to _need_ anything, from anyone _._ _Pathetic pathetic pathetic—_  

 _“_ Harry?” Louis’ patient voice cut off the frantic, insulting litany in Harry’s head. He blinked, eyes focusing back to what was in front of him. “Do we… need more bandages?” 

“Oh,” Harry breathed out, almost accidentally. He hadn’t even thought _that_ — that Louis might think _that_. Which… It didn’t sound that impossible, really, now that he was thinking about it himself. It’s just… The whole thing: he wasn’t doing it consciously. It wasn’t like… “Um, no? I don’t… It’s not… I don’t do it on purpose.” 

Louis brows furrowed, and the fingers on Harry’s knee flexed. 

“So, just hands?” the alpha asked after a pause. His voice sounded rough but something in the set of his shoulders seemed to relax. Harry shrugged, and then nodded. 

“I don’t do it on purpose,” Harry said again, words rushing out. Because for some reason it was suddenly very important that Louis knew it. He didn’t want to do it, but he couldn’t help it. “Can’t help it. It just… It hurts a-and I want it to s-stop but I can’t make it stop. A-and… And if I’m not paying attention, the w-wolf… It’s where the wolf can reach the easiest.” 

Harry looked down when he muttered the last bit. Down where he could see both of Louis’ hands gently touching him. His own hands looked odd, all wrapped up like that. Ruined. 

He had an urge to curl them into fists and hide them. 

“Is there anything that can make it better?” Louis asked. And…

Harry was almost certain that Louis was only asking because he wanted Harry to say it himself. He knew why this was happening, why Harry was hurting, and he knew what would make it better. There was no way the alpha hadn’t figured it out. If Harry had been able to realise what was going on—and he was absolutely useless with things related to his own omega behaviour—then Louis, and the others’, must’ve known even before Harry.  

Harry _knew_ they knew. They had talked about it, before, about how something like this could happen to omegas. They _had to_ know, which meant…

Louis knew Harry was dying from the inside because he was so desperate for touch.  

Harry felt so cheap.  

Betrayed by his own body. His mind was stuck too: half of him was saying he was _bad, improper, shameful_ , and the other half was insisting it was natural. The latter sounded a lot like Niall. 

Harry licked over his lips, pulling them in his mouth, and then biting down on the skin. He inhaled through his nose, before letting the air tremble back out. 

“It, um… W-when—” Oh gosh, Harry couldn’t believe he was even thinking of doing this. “I-it wasn’t as bad when… It was b-better when I… Um.” He had to pause to breathe in. “J-just after we met? All of us? A-and we were— _c-close_ , I guess. Like, just t-touching? A-a bit. Watching a m-movie, o-or something. I-I d-don’t— L-like, n-nothing much, j-just—”

Louis’ hand pressing down around his wrist cut off the chaotic, stuttering mess he had managed to produce. 

Harry’s face felt hot, embarrassment thick around his windpipe. His wolf was quiet in the back of his mind, gently basking in the security the alpha’s scent surrounding them was allowing them.

“Haz,” Louis said, squeezing his knee softly, trying to catch his eyes. He squeezed again when Harry didn’t react, and… Harry lifted his gaze, feeling humiliated but not strong enough to refuse anything Louis wished for. Their eyes locked. “You just had to ask, love.”

For a moment Harry's jaws worked around what he wanted to say, his teeth clenching together. His heart was still hammering against his chest, painfully. “I, um… I wasn’t sure i-if… If it was something I- _should_ ask.”  

A small crease appeared between Louis’ brows, the alpha clearly a bit thrown off my the way Harry had worded the sentence, “What do you mean?”

See, Harry knew he _could_ ask.

He knew he could ask, and he would get exactly what he wanted. What he _needed_. He had seen Niall do it—although the blond was more the type to just take, rather than waste time on asking first—and he had seen it happen. It was easy, simple, comfortable… It was _whatever._

The difference was…  

Just because he could, didn’t mean he should, right?

These boys, none of them, were _his._ They weren’t _his_ pack. Neither Louis nor Zayn were _his_ alpha. They weren’t related to him, they weren't his family, they weren’t… They weren’t _his._  

A little voice in his head was insisting that it wasn’t right, that it wasn’t proper, it wasn’t respectable, it wasn’t _decent_ … 

Harry shouldn’t ask things from people who weren’t _his_. Not his pack. Not his alphas. Not his anything.

But why did they feel like they were _everything?_

 _“_ I-I just…” Harry shrugged, trying to shake the conflicting thoughts from his head. “I just wasn’t sure.” 

“You know we don’t mind, right?” Louis asked, and Harry nodded. He knew they didn’t. He knew they had been subtly offering, voicelessly letting him know it’d be alright, it'd be _his_ if he just wanted it… “Just want you to feel better, Hazza.” 

What did feeling better mean anymore? 

“Y-yeah,” Harry sighed out, “I… Yeah. Thank you.” 

Louis rolled his eyes, easy smile lifting the corners of his mouth. Something in the way he did it managed to ease some of the tension hanging over the room. “Always so polite.”

Harry just shrugged at the amused observation, and smiled unsurely, shortly, towards his lap. Louis’ fingers tapped a soft rhythm over the bandage. 

He was smirking mischievously when Harry peeked up at him through his lashes. There were happy crinkles at the corners of the alpha’s eyes, the blueness of his irises was alluring in the light of the room.  

The smirk widened. 

“What?” Harry asked when he couldn't take it anymore. It came out confused, his tone a little bit defensive.  

He wasn’t able to wipe the little responding smile from his face though, and Louis looked pleased. 

“Can we cuddle now?” the alpha asked, voice teasing and light, his hand around Harry’s wrist still secure.  

Harry stared.  

There was a light flush high on Louis’ cheekbones, and Harry’s throat clicked when he swallowed.  

“Y-you want to?” Harry stuttered dumbly. Like, Louis had literally just asked for… But… He really wanted to..? “Um…” 

Louis’ eyes were clearly laughing at him, but instead of feeling embarrassed, it was making something warm furl inside Harry’s belly.  

The alpha slowly pulled his hands away from Harry, and scooted back on the bed. Before Harry was able to mourn for the loss of the touch, Louis was already reaching a hand out for him, leaning his back against the wall.   

Harry still wasn’t sure about this. He really wasn’t. But…  

With a tense sigh Harry grabbed the first aid items from the bed and pushed them on the edge of Louis’ messy nightstand. Then he turned back towards Louis, carefully eyeing the still reached out arm. 

“Liam will be so jealous,” Louis grinned, watching Harry inch forward. Maybe he said it to just distract him from _this,_ and if it was… It was kind of working. A little.

“Why?” Harry muttered, eyes finding their way back to the enticing spot where Louis’ neck met his shoulder.  

His arms felt trembly as he settled next to him— _close close close—_ his chest almost pressing against the alpha’s.

“Because he always wants to have a cuddle with you,” Louis huffed, like it was obvious. “Well, everyone wants. You look very cuddly, Harold.”

“O-oh,” Harry said—hiccuped, more like—and it was as much an answer to what Louis was saying as it was a reaction to having the alpha loop his arm behind his shoulders. Harry felt like he was melting, body going lax against Louis’. “Y-you too? You— You wanted to, too?” 

“Well, of course _not me_. Don’t be daft,” Louis scoffed, voice dramatic, and the way he was hugging Harry tighter against his chest obviously contradicting the words.

Harry was blinking rapidly, trying to force air into his lungs, only to have his head filled with _the scent_.

There was a hand smoothing down his curved back, and another one tugging at his raised knee to have it properly lay across both of Louis’. Harry was halfway in the alpha’s lap; shoulder tucked under his arm, his chest against Louis’ side. His hands rested bonelessly on the alpha’s thighs, the fabric of his jeans rough but oddly nice against the little skin still bare and visible amongst the bandages.   

It was way too easy to just give in—to give up—and let his head lean on Louis’ shoulder. It was way too easy to just hide his face against the sliver of skin there.

Harry breathed in.

And he kept breathing.

*

Drape Me In Your Warmth

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you xx
> 
> shyshyserious.tumblr.com  
> sshyserious@gmail.com


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